Page 37 of A Court Bright and Broken

Which had, of course, never happened. It was only my cover story for the marketplace beating I took.

I was actually starting to feel a bit touched by his fatherly concern—it was so rare after all—but then he got to therealreason for this little chat.

“Your glamour gift is unaffected, though, correct? You’ll be able to perform tonight if I need you?”

It felt as if my heart had been suddenly hollowed out, its contents replaced by sludge from the kitchen slop buckets.

“Yes, Father. It is wholly intact,” I said.

He nodded. “Good.”

Studying me again, he growled. “For the gods’ sake, put a smile on your face and stop moping around. I’d think you’d be happy the Assemblage has arrived and you’ll finally be able to bond with—”

His words were cut off by a loud crashing sound.

Both of us turned abruptly toward the scullery maid who’d been quietly clearing the table of the breakfast dishes and glasses and silverware.

Her face was horror struck, her cheeks bright red, and her eyes swimming with instantaneous tears. She probably feared for her life, poor girl.

As a human, she had to know it meant nothing to my father. He’d had servants executed for less.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, not daring to look either of us in the eye, and dropped to her knees to collect pieces of the shattered crystal and china.

She worked quickly, sweeping the glass into her bare hands and depositing the ruined mess on the tray.

Seeing blood on her trembling hands, I pushed back my chair and went to stoop beside her.

“Go see the healer,” I urged her, beginning to gather the glass myself.

The shadow of my father loomed above me, dimming the light from the chandeliers.

“Get. Off. The. Floor,” he ordered.

I looked up to see his enraged expression and stood immediately. Though I’d been doing nothing wrong, he was the king. No one disobeyed his orders—not even me.

Besides, while our glamours worked much better on humans than on other Elves, they did have some effect.

As a Compeller, my father’s glamour caused others towantto give him whatever he wanted.

Applied appropriately, it was very useful in ruling a kingdom. He asked his subjects to follow him, and they were very happy to comply.

When used inappropriately however…

A painful knot formed in my throat as my mind flashed through some of the things I’d seen… and done.

When my father’s glamour was amplified, he was unstoppable. People couldn’t resist giving him what he wanted—even when it was to their own detriment.

It was how he’d risen to power despite having no birthright to the throne of the Fae Grand Court.

It was how he’d become richer than any king who’d existed before him—in gold, precious gems, horses, troops, land—and servants, who worked without pay simply because he’d asked them to.

Even his enemies had handed over their lands and riches to him, only to be baffled later about why they’d ever have signed such agreements.

They all hated him for it, but what could they do? They’d voluntarily surrendered what he’d asked for in the presence of witnesses.

He even used his gift on Mareth and Pharis and me.

The two of them gave him love and loyalty—though I’d never been able to detect any actual fatherly love from him in return.

---